We need a little magic. In that vein I have begun a series of novellas, all under 10,000 words. The first was “Where Tigers Belch,” the second is “Where the Frogs Sing Café.”
I have revamped There the Frogs Sing Café, and released it, and am offering an excerpt here.
I hope you enjoy it for I got a kick out of writing it. I felt privileged that it took me to Hawaii again, and there I found a little grass shack, uh, café, hidden off the highway on a lava encrusted road through tall cane grass.
At Where the Frogs Sing Café you will meet Zane who cooks the best hamburgers ever, and his Butter Mochi is out of this world. You will meet Felicity and her little daughter Sunshine, but the main food of the day, that for the soul, comes later on the beach where you are a part of a specially invited group who watch the sun go down.
You are privileged to experience the “green flash” a rare atmospheric condition that happens as the last rays of the sun dip below the horizon. That event is said to bring good fortune or spiritual enlightenment.
I invite you to join our group as together we watch the sunset and where Zane offers fresh insight for three college girls on summer break. Where else do people frequently stop what they are doing and watch the sun go down?
More than likely, it is on an Island.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 Where the Frogs Sing Cafe
Chapter 2 The Green Flash
Chapter 3 Yes, I Can
Chapter 4 Who Created This System Anyway?
Chapter 5 A Dip
Chapter 6 A Story
Chapter 7 Morning
Frogs sing the eternal call to life and happiness.”
1
"Where the Frogs Sing Cafe'"
“There it is!” Carolyn yelled.
I almost stomped on the breaks, but first looked in the rear-view mirror to see if any cars were behind me.
No, Highway 11 on Hawaii wasn’t busy. I let the jeep slow to a crawl, and turned to Carolyn, “You almost made me wet my pants. "What are you talking about?"
"The sign. About 100 yards back." She strained against the seat belt while pointing behind her.
"It said Where the Frogs Sing Café," and there was an arrow pointing that-a-way." Carolyn pointed to the right.
"Oh," you mean the one that snorkeler guy told us about?"
"Yeah, the one you were flirting with, he said it was a shortcut back to our condo,"
"I saw a sign too,” said Freda behind me, “but couldn’t read it.”
I wasn't flirting, but let's check it out.".”
Still no cars were coming so I slowly backed the jeep to where Carolyn pointed, and there it was at a break in the cane grass beside the road, a bright yellow sign that I had missed, "Where the Frogs Sing Café," with an arrow pointing to a road that disappeared into the grass. "Are you game?" I asked.
"Yep, yep."
The road didn't look like one that would lead to a café, but after our day of snorkeling in the ocean, sunning on the beach, and being wind-whipped in an open-air jeep, we were exhausted and starving.
So, we entered a lava-encrusted road where the cane grass slapped our jeep on one side, and pumice bits from the road pinged the vehicle on the other.
After about one quarter mile the road ended at a strip of golden/white sand. And there on that beautiful sand sat a Robinson Crusoe-style shack with a sign under its thatched roof, Where the Frogs Sing Café.
I cut the motor, and a stillness settled over us, but in the distance, we heard the sound of the surf.
"Jo," Carolyn attentively asked, "do you think this is safe?"
"We have only met friendly people," I said. "This looks like the sort of place poor college students would frequent, a Barefoot pub on the beach. Besides, do you think that fellow we met while snorkeling would steer us wrong? He seemed nice."
"Well, since you were flirting with him, it's no wonder he was nice."
"All the more reason to trust him. He was flirting back." I opened the car door and swung my legs out.
“I though you said you weren’t flirt…”Freda, dark-haired and tanned the color of toast, poked Carolyn who was, like I, tanned the color of and lobsters thrown into boiling water, and they both laughed.
“I lied,” I said, and we three entered the café, bedraggled after our wind-swept day.
A young woman smiled at us and pointed to a booth beside a bank of open windows.
"Three beers," called Freda, "anything cold."
Hamburgers were the fair of the day, as indicated on the chalkboard. Freda was reading, "Burger with cheese, without cheese, with goat cheese, Swiss cheese, with caramelized onion, tomatoes, pickles…"
"I think I'll have a burger," said Carolyn.
A girl who looked like Drew Barrymore with hair to her shoulders and a smile that just didn't quit brought three beers with limes on top of the bottles. I was immediately drawn to her.
Something about her made me smile, no matter how hungry I was. She wore a pink tank top and jean shorts, covered by a small apron printed with Toucans, and she wore rubber surf shoes.
I wondered what she was doing out here off the beaten path, not a lively pub I would expect for a young woman as lovely as she. After she had placed the beers on the table, she stood there, pen poised in hand and slowly counted: "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Did you hear how loud that seventh wave was? It beat the shore like a rocket."
We looked at her questioningly, ordered hamburgers, and she left.
I began to count the waves. When I got to the seventh, WHAM! it crashed against a rocky shore. Soon, we were all counting. Yep. The ocean was accurate. Repeatedly, the seventh wave was the loudest.
The girl arrived with a tray of the most enormous hamburgers I had ever seen. "You came fast," I said.
"Counting the waves gives starving people something to do while they are waiting."
"I laughed, "You had a method in your madness."
"You betcha," she said, slipping an over-filled plate to each of us. A wrapping of colorful waxed paper kept the enormous hamburgers together, but left a portion sticking out, ready for a bite. A haystack of fries sat beside them, with a small purple orchid perched on its top like a teeny squirrel guarding its cache. I love it when my food comes served with a flower, a common occurrence in Hawaii.
"Thank you," we three said, taking our little orchid flower and slipping it into our frizzled, wind-blown hair. Carolyn took a bite of a French fry, then, waving the other half, announced, "This is the best fry I've ever tasted."
"Those are tempura French fries," said our waitress, "a specialty of the house."
We looked toward the chef, or whoever you call someone in a small café like this, who stood behind a bar flipping something on the grill. "We waved, and he waved his pancake turner back.
The waitress acknowledged a couple coming in the front door, "Hi, Emily. Hi, Lee," she pointed to a booth. "Enjoy, guys," she said to us. "I'll be back."
We dove into those burgers, catching the burger juice with our napkins, and munched and drank until the enormous burgers were nothing but a greasy spot on the paper that had wrapped them.
We yelled "Cooks parade," and waved to the large Hawaiian cook/chef behind the counter. He waved and held up a finger, indicating one minute."
"What makes these burgers so exceptional?" I asked the cook when he came to our table.
"Mom grows the tomatoes. She picked yours this morning, which was after Grandpa poured a bucket of seawater on them the night before; the salt makes them sweet. Mom grows the lettuce and onions, too. A bakery delivers the buns, Grandma makes the dill pickles, and the beef is Angus grass-fed. Being served by a beautiful woman doesn't hurt either."
"Well, you've ruined us for anything else now. We'll have to stay here forever."
He smiled, asked for our names, shook our hands, and introduced himself as Zane.
"A present," he said, setting a small bottle of vinegar on the table. The vinegar is for your red skin; it will help keep the blisters away."
He moved away with an "Aloha," and went back to his kitchen.
When the girl came back to our table, she said, "That's my Daddy."
The three of us were stunned and didn't say anything, just looked at her, then at the man behind the grill who had black hair pulled back in a ponytail, and biceps the size of wiener dogs with geometric black tattoos encircling their bellies.
"My adopted dad," she said, acknowledging our bewilderment.
"He rescued me when I was a pregnant beach bum, kicked out of my house by my parents."
"You didn't grow up here?"
"No, I'm from San Francisco.
"What is your name if you don't mind my asking?"
"Felicity."
"Happy," I said. "Felicity means happy."
"Yes. I gave it to myself after I had my baby girl."
"Are you happy, Felicity?" I asked.
"No one is happy 100% of the time, but I'm happy 95% of the time. There's the reason." She pointed to the door, where a blond, tanned, barefooted little girl about six years old peeked into the room.
When her mom's index finger wiggled a "Come here," she burst into the room, ran to her mother, and threw her arms around her hips. She looked like a sea nymph, in a green smock printed with sea grass and sea turtles. Her hair looked like her mother's but had that delicate child's shimmer to it. It looked freshly shampooed and had a green ribbon that had once tied it, but now it hung sideways, tangled in her hair.
"Sunshine, dear, meet some nice girls from the mainland. This is Jo."
"Hello Sunshine," I said, "I'm so happy to meet you."
"Me too," she said and hugged me.
"And this is Freda and Carolyn," her mother said. They put out their arms, and she slid into a hug. "Bye," she said and ran off to throw herself into the arms of the big man behind the grill.
The other two couples were chatting sweet sounds behind us, and Sunshine seemed to know them, as she had waved when she came in. This café appeared to be the happiest place I had ever seen.
Sunshine came to our table with a plush brown toy in her hands, "Would you like the Coqui Frog? she said. "See, you press his belly and he says his name." She pressed its belly, and he clearly said, "Co-Qui."
"How cute," I said, taking her frog and pushing its belly. "But we can't take your frog."
"He isn't my frog. He's everybody's frog. He's an experiment. Someone else had him, and they kept a little book to write down whatever they found to share. They said to either pass it on or send him back to us."
"That would be fun," said Freda, "Let's do it."
"Tell your momma, we'll do it."
"Okay." She ran off.
Felicity's face it up, and she smiled at us.
Soon Felicity was back at the table. Can I get you anything else? I'm happy you took Sunshine's frog. I can't wait to read what you guys write. That way, we will be somewhat connected. I always enjoy reading about what people see or feel. I'll give you the little journal that comes with it. The first folks who had it wrote briefly about some of their experiences." She started to walk away, then turned and said, "By the way, we are going down to the beach for a campfire this evening. Would you join us? It will be the people in this room. It's a short walk to the beach."
"Gosh, I'm tired," said Carolyn. "Maybe we should get back to our hotel."
"Oh, I hope you will come," said Felicity, "at least to watch the sunset."
"Let's do it," said Freda."
"Yes, I said, that sounds like fun. Come on, Carolyn, let's do it."
We agreed.
"Great. Freshen up and follow the trail behind our shack. We'll be there in about 15 minutes."
"We'll show you the way," said the couple at the other table. "Hi, I'm Emma, and this is my husband, Lee." We shook hands, introduced ourselves, and aimed for the door.
The air was smooth as silk against our sun-brightened skin that now smelled of vinegar as we followed our newly acquainted friends down a sandy path to the beach.
We could hear the surf pounding a steady beat, and it was clear that someone often came here, as there was a circle of bricks that made a fire pit, filled with fresh wood.
"Were you guys planning this?" Carolyn asked the couple.
"Oh, we often come here. It's our recharging place. Where else do folks stop to watch the sunset except on an Island?"
2
The Green Flash
"Is there any truth to the sun making a sizzle as it goes down?" asked Frank, the fellow of the other couple.
Sunshine, who had just arrived with Felicity, Zane and the other couple, piped up, "Silly, the sun doesn't go into the water, but some of the kids think it does."
"What about the flash I've heard about. Is that true?"
"The green flash? Yes, it's true. Zane, as seen one, haven't you Zane?'
"Yes, I have. The green flashes are rare and hard to see, but let's watch, maybe we will see one tonight."
We all became quiet and focused intently on the horizon. And then as the last light of the sun slipped into the water—I saw it. It was not a flash at the horizon as I expected, but a glow like a tint of green had been squirted into the air. One could easily miss it if they were expecting a big flash.
The others were silent. Had they seen it? We were stuck dumb until Sunshine screamed, "I saw it!"
One by one, the rest of us admitted that we saw it too. Most of us were afraid it wasn't true, or that we had imagined it.
"I saw it right at the horizon," Sunshine said.
"I didn't," I said, "but I saw something green."
Each person shared a slightly different experience. When so many admitted that they had seen something green, we whooped and applauded the mystery of it all. And we fell back on the blankets laughing in gratitude.
That settled us all into a surreal experience, a shared event.
"Boy," said Carolyn, "I'm glad you guys didn't listen to me when I wanted to go back to the condo." I'm fully energized now."
"This is a magical place," I said, and meeting you guys out here in such an isolated place. Where did you come from?
"Oh, we live close by," said Zane. "This is our spot."
"Well, thank you for inviting us," said Freda.
"Dido," said Carolyn.
"What causes the green flash, Zane? Do you know?" Frank asked.
"It has to do with atmospheric conditions. It's rather like a rainbow, in that the atmosphere between us and our view of the sun causes a refraction that separates the green from the rest of the colors. On truly rare occasions, a blue or purple flash follows the green, but I've never seen either of them.”
Felicity added, "Mythology says that the green flash brings good fortune, or spiritual enlightenment."
"We are awed by events we don't understand," said Alice, Frank's partner, "especially in the sky, or in beautiful things we see on earth. Have you ever read the little book, Where Tigers Belch?
"Yes," said Felicity, "that is where we got the idea for the name of our café. Amber, who visited us once, wrote the story.”
"What is the book about? I asked.
"You tell them, Alice," said Felicity.
"It's about a young woman, about you girl's age, she was a junior in college too. She lived in Africa near a jungle and decided to set out one day to find her purpose. She declared that it would be where a tiger belched that she would find it.
"Does she?" I ask.
"You will have to read the book to find out."
"Ah, Alice."
"Grandpa," asked Sunshine, yawning and probably tired of adult talk, "can I have one of your Butter Mochis before I go to sleep?
"Indeed, you can, Princess," he said, and went to the wagon to retrieve a rectangular pan of what looked like a cake. He cut it into squares, dug one out for Sunshine, and handed it to her. “These are for everybody,” he said, “whenever you are ready for dessert.”
"What is a Butter Mochi?" Freda asked.
"It is made with rice flour, coconut milk, milk, eggs, and butter, and has an unusual texture and is delicious."
"Grandpa, can I have a second?”
"You can have as many as you want, as long as you leave enough for the rest of us."
"Well, I'm pretty full," I said, "but curious. May I have one?"
"Absolutely," I made them for all of you, help yourselves." Zane set the pan in the center of the group, and everybody took one.
"Zane," I exclaimed, "everything you prepare is exquisite. This Mochi is such fun to eat, like a buttery gummy bear cake."
He laughed and opened the ice chest. "We have ginger beer, very gingery, non-alcoholic, Lilikoi soda, and water. Help yourselves. And for you, Carolyn, Freda, and Jo, rub this on your skin; it will help it heal. This is aloe vera,” he said, snapping a succulent leaf in half. “Rub the juice on your fiery skin. It will help it heal.”
The three of us caught the oozing juice and gently applied it to our vinegared skin. It was soothing.
"Thank you, Zane. Are you a shaman or something like that?"
He laughed.
I looked at Sunshine, a little angel, fast asleep, slumped against her mother with her second Moshe half-eaten still in her hand.
Felicity gently took the cake from her hand, lay her down, and covered her with a blanket.
"What a sweetheart," said Freda.
"My reason for being clean and sober and having a purpose in life."
"Is it to have a child?" I asked.
"That and others," she answered.
"Like what?" I asked.
"Like to share the goodness of life, to motivate others to go for their dreams, and not frivolously waste their precious life. Do not go with the group if that group does not support your magnificence. A life is a terrible thing to waste. I found that out on the streets of San Francisco, but those streets gave me Sunshine. That experience sent me here, and Zane saved me. I am grateful."
"Tell me," Carolyn asked, "how does one go about finding their purpose? I have one more year of college, and your friend who wrote the book did as well. Did she go on to become a professional in her chosen field?"
"She went out to follow her dream. If you have something you want most of all in the world, that is God talking to you, whispering, saying, 'Go for it.' But sometimes it takes the journey for you to find it.
"Like jump and build your wings on the way down, as Ray Bradbury said?"
"Sort of like that," said Zane, "but don't do that from an airplane."
"Many students at the beginning of their college education do not have a major in mind," offered Lee, "Doctors even, often choose their specialty after they have experience under their belt. Sometimes our journey is college, sometimes it isn't. Especially for those who don't know what in the heck they want."
"What about me?" asked Carolyn sadly. "What impact will I have on this world?
“I’m a psychology major,” Carolyn continued, “and three years into it, but when I look at the world, I don't see many psychologists making a significant impact. I see people struggling. I see them in poverty. Some go to therapy for 20 years for Heaven's sake. Don't get me wrong, I believe in therapy, but it has to be good therapy. People don't change unless they want to or are forced to, such as when they hit rock bottom.
“Do I go into social work? “Does that make a difference in people's lives, or would I be doing it for the salary?
“Does the social system change behavior? You put kids into the social system, and they often get abused or molested. How depressing is that? Do I go into private practice? That means more school, and my folks mortgaged the house to send me to college thus far. They wanted me to get an education. But more school?"
"Never rule out what education can do for you." Zane said, "Right now, it is getting you to ask the right questions."
"But where are the answers?"
I could hear her voice about to break. And I knew enough about therapy not to pat her out of it so she would shelf the problem.
"The pain you are in now, my dear," said Zane, "is part of the process. I am sorry, but it is. Going for your dream more than likely won't be easy. It requires a steadfast purpose and a belief that it will happen.
Carolyn put her head in her hands, and I ached for her.
3
Yes, I Can
“We know there are burdens out there. We know that people are suffering. You wonder if all the sacrifices you and your family made will ensure you a decent job. You feel that freedoms are being taken away. You worry about the future. Look at Sunshine sleeping peacefully. Didn't Jesus say that we should become as little children? Shouldn't we trust?"
"Yeah, Kane," said Frank, "tell that to a slave."
"For every positive aspect we put out, the brain, like a watchman, will counter it with something negative,” said Lee.
"Sorry I did that," said Frank.
"Look at the babies," said Zane. "Those little spark plugs arrive all wide-eyed, expecting fun and good times. They smile, giggle, kick up their heels, and are eager to learn new things—like walking, talking, running, and playing with wild abandon. Don't we want them to have a happy life? The voices of the world —from institutions, culture, parents —although well-meaning, often say things like, "You know you can't have everything you want."
The little soul would say, "Yes, I can, Yes, I can."
"'You are not the center of the Universe,' the world tells them.
"'Yes, I am. Yes, am.'"
"That's who you really are, dear ones. Instead, you are acting like a toddler who stuck a pair of scissors into a light socket. Oh, that hurt.
4
Who Created This System Anyway?
"Our little campfire on the beach is for simpatico people who will hear our message and will be elevated by it," explained Zane. "We are fearful human beings; if something physical isn't chasing us, we will make up a mental image to do it. We hope to calm the terrified beast."
"We are something like an underground railroad." Added Felicity. "Zane was that underground railroad for me. He picked me up from the Streets of San Francisco and put me on a boat to Hawaii, where a group of tahunas took me in. They said to me, ‘This is your chance, baby, are you going to clean up your act, or abandon and ruin your child?'
"'I never will,' I yelled. 'I will work. I will pray. I will do everything in my power to raise this child to be a good person.' I set out to find Zane, and did. The rest is history. Zane and I formed an alliance, a café, and a belief system."
"This is your time to become the warrior," Zane said. "It's the time to stand steadfast in your knowledge that there is a force stronger than you and that you have access to it."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Have you heard of the power of belief?"
"Sure, like the Placebo effect."
"Yes, that works," said Zane. "If we believe that a sugar pill is the medicine that will heal us, what happens? Often, we become healed. Yet, we had no medicine, yet we were healed. What did it?”
"Belief," said Frank. "We know that ultimately it's the body that heals. However, medicine can give it a boost when its energy doesn't seem strong enough to do the job. Others can trick us into believing a sugar pill is medicine; however, it seems we can't fool ourselves."
"What if," offered Zane, "we held our dream with such tenacity that the storms of life could not push it away from us. The winds can blow, the rains can come, but "I will stand firm,' you say. 'I have the power of the Universe behind me.'
"Don't let God off the hook. Remember the amputee, Lieutenant Dan, in the movie Forrest Gump, who held onto the Shrimp boat during a storm and yelled to God, 'Bring it on!'
"You yell back at God and say that 'I am a part of you, and I will not succumb to the dark force that is trying to pull me in. Don't you think God, the Power, the Universe, the Force, would say, "Well done, kid. I'm proud of you."
"Wow, said Carolyn, I hadn't thought of it that way. Would God be proud of me if I yelled at him and said I wasn't going to let life pull me down?"
"Would you be proud if your child said it?"
"Hell yeah!" said Freda, popping in. "I'd be proud of my kid for being that powerful."
"Well, what about God?"
"I believe in a loving God," said Freda.
"Wouldn't you be a loving parent?"
"You bet I would."
"Isn't God as great?'
Silence.
"What about the rest of you guys? What are you into?"
I just wanted a college education," I said. "My folks always assumed I would go to college. I wanted a liberal arts education. The school assumes that you will choose a major. I chose English Literature."
"Sounds great to me," said Lee.
"Do you know of the doctor Patch Adams?" Zane asked. "They made a movie by that name. He wanted to help people."
"That's what I want," Carolyn said.
"He was quite a rebel," Zane continued, "He wanted to create a hospital where people helped each other. No one charged a patient a fee. The medical personnel worked for the facility. Doctors treated people because they were licensed to do that. No one used insurance. The trouble was, no one donated to build a hospital either. They had a clinic for a while, but the doctors had to work outside the clinic to afford to work in it. Yet, thousands of doctors apply for positions at his facility. Can you imagine?"
"Yes, I can," said Carolyn. "A dream is more important than a big fat paycheck. I prefer to be happy."
"That was sort of Patch's principle, 'When you treat a disease,' Patch said, 'you win some, you lose some. When you treat a person, I guarantee you win, no matter the outcome.'"
"Wow!" said Carolyn. "What a concept. Treat the person, assist their happiness. I'm there. Where is that person, Patch Adams?" Is he still alive?"
"Yep, in Hillsboro, West Virginia. He has 300 gorgeous pristine acres of farm and mountain land," continued Zane. "Donated by a man he met in a mental hospital—no hospital yet, but I heard that after 40 years of working to raise funds, he has finally broken ground for a hospital."
"I'm going to research that," said Carolyn. "Isn't that phenomenal? Girls", she turned to Freda and me. "How about after we graduate, we give ourselves a trip to West Virginia?"
"Sounds good to me," I said. “My dream is to be a columnist, like my parents used to read in the newspapers. However, colonists are virtually non-existent now, but writers still write. Going to West Virginia would give me good material."
"And me," said Freda, "those 300 acres in West Virginia intrigue me. I'm a farmer at heart."
"I'm so excited," said Carolyn. "There I was grumbling about how things don't work, and how hard it is, now I have a new focus, treat the person, not the disease. That takes the pressure off. Our job isn't to keep people alive forever, it's to help them live while they are alive."
"To affect the quality of the day is the highest of the arts, to quote Henry David Thoreau," Felicity added.
"For the better, I hope," said Frank.
"Yeah, maybe he should have clarified that."
"Is that what you guys are doing here?" Carolyn turned to Zane and Felicity."
"I think she has our number," said Zane.
5
A Dip
"I need a break after all this serious talk," Frank said. "I'm going for a swim," He began, unzipping his trousers.
"Frank!" exclaimed Alice.
"It's dark," he said, and I'm not wearing wet clothing when I get out of the water. Look the other way."
He moved a distance away, dropped his trousers, and ran toward the water—all we could see was a white butt disappearing into the night.
"Well," Alice said, "I shouldn't let him be out there all alone in the dark," and pushed up from her blanket and moved into the darkness.
The three of us girls looked at each other. Carolyn dropped her shorts, and with a "Whooppee," ran toward the surf—followed by two others—us.
The surf slapped me with a chill, but Hawaii’s waters are almost bath-tub warm. I felt free, surrounded by the gorgeous night and laughing people around me, which gave me an energy jolt.
I could see my way back to the others for the fire lighted the way. When we ran from the water toward the encampment, Felicia met us with a blanket, holding it as we ran into it, then wrapping us as though we were Princesses of the Nile.
Zane brought out cups and a thermos of coffee.
"I appreciated the butt parade," said Lee.
Zane pulled a ukulele from his wagon and began to strum it softly. When he started a rousing tune, Felicia began dancing. "I know a little hula. "Come on, join me." She began swaying her hips and moving her hands. These are the little fishes," she said, holding her two hands together and making waving motions.
"Come on, guys, stand up swing your hips."
Clothes first. We ran under the cover of darkness, slipped into our clothing, and came back.
"I want to go back to my little grass shack in Kealakekua, Hawaii," sang Felicia.
We repeated swinging our hips and trying to copy her hand movements as we repeated her phrase.
When she got to the end, 'Where the HumuhumuNukunukuapuaa goes swimming by,' we were on the sand laughing.
"Okay, guys," she said, "You cannot leave Hawaii without learning our State fish's name, Humuhumunukunuku a puaa."
“Repeat after me: “Hoo-moo-hoo-moo-noo-koo-noo-koo-ah-poo-ah-ah, You can't go home until you've learned it."
"Let's just move here," I said.
"Tell them a story, Zane," Felicia said.
We all cuddled around the campfire, sharing blankets, and expectantly looking at Zane. “Story, story, story!” we chanted.
See more…
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